


A Hawk in a Cage of Gold

by Mithen



Category: Demon Knights
Genre: Academia, Adventure, Choices, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al Jabr is studying at the House of Wisdom in Al-Wadi when he meets an acquaintance from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hawk in a Cage of Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



_Copper wire, silk thread, mica, catgut, sulphur…_ The man who called himself Al Jabr ran over his list of materials, checking them off in his mind, as he walked through the bazaar of Al-Wadi. The air smelled of roasted spiced meat, frankincense and sweat mingled: a jumble of contradictory and fascinating things jostling for attention, rather like Al-Wadi itself.

He still had a handful of coins in his purse; as he strolled through the market, ignoring the cajoling of fortune-tellers and charm-sellers, he considered whether to buy a lemon ice or a glass of chilled pomegranate juice. His next lecture at the House of Wisdom was in just an hour--Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad ibn Mūsā al-Khwārizmī's explanation of his recent work, "The Compendious Book on Calculation by Completion and Balancing," fascinating topic--and yet somehow he found himself dawdling, watching the clouds move overhead and listening to the sounds of the bustling street. So different from the House of Wisdom's stillness, the reverent hush one could find only in centers of learning, the kind of peace and tranquility he had so often yearned for while on the road.

And yet, he he was, watching street urchins play tag and a tame monkey consider whether it could steal a nectarine from an unsuspecting vendor.

When he caught a flash of copper-colored hair in the crowd, he frowned, disbelieving his eyes. But then he saw it again, another glimpse, and before he knew it he was moving through the crowd to get a better look at the figure on a roan horse, straight-backed and alert and--

"Horsewoman!" he called before he could think better of it, and she turned at the sound of his voice to look down at him. She was bronzed with the southern sun, but her eyes were same limpid, wild green he remembered.

"Al Jabr!" she said, and smiled with real warmth.

"Pomegranate juice?" he held up his glass, and she laughed aloud and said his name again as if she couldn't believe it.

They strolled through the bazaar, and Al Jabr bought pomegranate juice for her and lumps of sugar for her delighted horse, and asked her where she had been, and listened to her stories of wide steppes and mountain passes, of shaggy ponies in far-off places and sleet like arrows against the skin.

The clock at the center of the city chimed, and he started.

"I would love to continue this conversation, but I must return to the House of Wisdom, and I'm afraid that they do not allow..."

"Women?" she said when he paused, her voice hard.

"Horses," he corrected mildly.

Her mount chose that moment to snort, blowing hay-scented air, and her brief sternness melted away once more into something shockingly close to a giggle. "I suppose we might be out of place in a lecture-hall."

"As an eagle in a canary-cage," he agreed, imagining the consternation of the scholars, the horror of the scribes. He found he was smiling.

"Play hooky with me," she said with no warning.

* * *

"Of course I'm happy," he said. He was sitting on the city walls, looking out over the rolling plains beyond. "I'm working on my most ambitious invention ever. Not that all of my colleagues think it's feasible--Fatima al-Kubra keeps insisting that Aristotle's theories on the properties of air are a false lead, but she doesn't seem to understand that--"

"--When was the last time you left the city?"

"Oh, I don't know. A year, maybe two? Why should I leave when everything I need is right here?"

She patted her mount's neck. "What is it you're working on that's so important?"

He sat up, eager. "It's a flying machine. I've based some of the design on Etrigan's wings--Shining Knight's steed was clearly impractical, but I think that with the proper construction--"

He broke off, realizing she was smiling at him as he gestured at the vast sky beyond the walls of the city, the vistas spreading out in his imagination. 

"I can't," he said to the glint in her green eyes. "I've got so much I need to do here--so much to learn--"

"Come back and learn when you are _old_ ," she said, and the roan snorted and pranced sideways a few steps at the urgency in her voice. "Al Jabr, the world is wide and full of wonders, and you are a hawk in a cage of wrought gold! The door is open; will you shut yourself inside and preen your plumage, or will you fly?"

And she held out her hand to him.

* * *

The black stallion tossed his mane and broke into a canter, gazing longingly at Horsewoman's roan. Al Jabr looked back over his shoulder at the dwindling walls of Al-Wadi, at its delicate minarets and waving banners.

"Race you to the horizon!" called Horsewoman.

Al Jabr looked away from the city. Laughing, he gave his stallion free rein and felt it surge forward toward the unknown.

He did not look back again.


End file.
